“You should bill it to the project.”
“There’s no money left.”
“Georgiana—”
“I’ll see you tomorrow. Big day with the auction at noon.” I hook my purse strap over my shoulder, needing to speed out of there before I do something stupid.
“Okay. See you tomorrow then.”
For a moment there’s this buzz between us, the unspoken need to reach for each other and hug. But I turn away as he looks toward the person waiting to ask him something.
I rush out of the convention center, checking behind my back every now and again, scared that he might follow me and that I won’t be able to resist him if he so much as reaches for my hand. The whole day, the only thing I longed for was the simple touch of his hand to mine. A brush of fingers, an accidental shoulder bump, a quick connection of our hands as he passes a flyer to me. But we’ve both been on our guard and made sure none of that happened.
It’s really over, isn’t it?
One last night in this motel and then I have no idea where I’m going to go next. I open the door and let in some fresh air, wilted after another intense day of crowds and constant interaction. I kick my shoes off and plonk down on my bed, not wanting to think of anything. All thoughts lead to Raiden. A broken heart is a bit like a forced diet. As soon as you can’t have something, all you want to do is stuff your face with it.
When my phone rings, my hopes fly sky high. What if it’s him? Five minutes alone in this horrible room yearning for him has cured me. I dig into my purse for my phone, and everything dims. It’s only Dad calling. Three days ago, I would have jumped on this call like a woman obsessed. Now I don’t even know if I want to take it.
Whatever happened with Mom—and Dad might be the captain of her ship—she made the choice not to step down as a judge and I can’t hold that decision against him. I’ll hear him out, for what it’s worth.
“Dad.”
“Georgiana, sweetheart. I just flew in from the Bahamas. Mom told me what happened in Boston.”
“Yes.” And?
“Sweetheart, she didn’t know. She honestly didn’t.”
“I don’t know if it matters. She hurt Raiden more than she hurt me.” I’ve become a hard nut to crack.
“I want you to come home, sweetheart, so we can iron this out.”
This isn’t what he said weeks ago. Weeks ago, I had to find a new place to live, and I have that in writing.
“I’m not ready to come home, Dad.” I might never be ready to come home.
He heaves a big sigh. “We only wanted to teach you to be tough and take the business seriously. Care for it as we do. The world is a nasty place—”
“—and it begins at home. I get it.” I’ve always cared for Wess & Rover, and I don’t understand why they even questioned that. But there’s no way I’m going to crawl back to Wess & Rover, not with what I’ve seen this weekend. There’s a business here. Raiden and I can take Tic Tack Tiny to the next level if we can manage not to mix business with pleasure.
Sadly, I don’t think we can go back to a purely professional relationship ever again, so there goes that idea.
I’m tough enough, I have been from the start, but until now, I never believed in myself. These past few weeks though have shown me that I have what it takes.
“I’m sorry, Georgie. It came out all wrong,” Dad says.
“But it came out, all the same.”
“We’d love to have you back when you’re ready.”
“It’s going to take time.” I’m not going to ship south just to make them feel easy.
“Okay, whenever you’re ready, we’ll be here.”
“Thanks for understanding. Good night, Dad.”
I ring off with a deep sigh. At least I’m no longer homeless and jobless. I can go home to Miami with the open return ticket I already have. The salary Raiden paid me out of the tiny house budget is on its last hundred dollars after the IKEA purchase, motel, and printing expenses. I can go home and let my parents give me some sort of job and have all my problems fixed with a snap of my fingers, but that isn’t what I want.